Thank you
by DoYouMindIfISlytherin
Summary: Harry wakes one morning to find that his scar is gone. His parents are alive, and there was never a Dark Lord. There's just one problem. Tom Riddle wont stop staring at him. Slash, warnings inside.
1. Thank you, confusion

_(A/N so this is my new plot bunny. It's been banging around in my head for a while, though I feel I should warn you I have no idea where it's going to go. I have a vague idea, but no clear plot. But then again, Liquida Tenebris was the same, and now I know exactly where that's going. So who knows.) _

(Warnings: Slash, male on male. What more could you expect from me? Possible character deaths.)

**Thank you, confusion.**

Harry James Potter shifted in his four poster bed, happily sighing and stretching. Until he fully gained conciseness.

That was when he frowned.

It was the beginning of his sixth year, and now everyone knew for a fact that Voldemort had truly returned. There was no way to deny it, not after the battle in the department of mysteries.

Harry sat up and rubbed his eyes, flinching at the still raw memory of Sirius' death. The shocked look on his face as he fell through the veil flashed through Harry's mind, before he shook himself and stood up quickly.

Ron was looking through his trunk, whistling a tune and looking far to chipper for Harry's liking. Who whistled on such a crap day?

"Ron?" Harry questioned, wondering what on earth could have put the ginger in such a cheery mood.

Ron pulled out a set of robes that actually looked quite expensive. When the Boy Who Lived examined his best mates pajamas, he found that they were also of exceptional quality. _When did he get those? _Harry wondered.

"Yes, Harry?"

There was something different about his voice. It was more mature. More adult. Harry frowned in confusion, but dismissed it.

"What's got you so chipper?"

"Oh, Hermione and I have a date this morning." The Boy Who Lived frowned once more. Something weird was going on here.

"You do? Since when?" It was Ron's turn to frown.

"What are you talking about? We've been dating for months. You know that."

No, he didn't know that. They hadn't told him. He felt slightly angry that they had left him out of the loop.

"Oh. Well, what are you two doing?" Harry tried to hide the hurt in his voice.

"We're going to have a picnic by the lake for breakfast. Which do you think?" Ron asked, holding up two sets of robes that were both rather expensive looking.

Harry wondered what the hell he was missing.

"Er, the left." The brunette said, instead of asking what the hell was going on, like he wanted too.

"That's what I thought. It matches my hair better. Though, they are both pretty fantastic." Harry's eyes widened slightly. He had never heard his best mate talk like that. He almost sounded like Malfoy.

The Boy Who Lived looked around the room, as if he was trying to find someone who thought this was as weird as he did. While he scanned the room, he noticed an extra bed. The circular room was larger than he remembered it, as well.

"Did we get a transfer student, or something?" Harry asked, and Ron raised his eyebrow.

"No, what are you talking about? You're acting rather strange, Harry."

"But there's an extra bed," He gestured to the bed, as if it would prove his point.

"That's Tony's bed. Don't be daft." The ginger said, throwing his robe on.

"I'm going to go and meet Hermione now, you know how she gets if you're late."

Harry nodded dumbly, and his best friend left the room with a confidant stride that only served to confuse the Boy Who Lived further.

"What the hell is going on?" Harry muttered.

He decided to go down to breakfast, hoping that someone else had an explanation.

He pulled his robes out of his trunk, and quickly changed into them. He then made his way to the mirror, and ran his hand through his hair, frowning. He wished that he could somehow tame it. He was frustrated by the way it stuck out in all directions, as if he had stuck his finger in a power socket.

His hand froze midway through his hair, and he stared in shock.

His scar was gone.

Not a trace of it remained.

"Holy shit," He muttered.

"What is going on?" He repeated, as if someone was going to answer him. He looked at himself in the mirror closely then, and noticed that he was taller. And no where near as scrawny as he used to be.

He shook his head fiercely. There was no way he was awake. He had to be dreaming.

He pinched his arm, which was much more defined, and blinked in shock when he realized that he felt the pain from it.

"I'm not asleep." He told the empty room. But he had to be.

He left the room quickly then, not even bothering with his hair. He needed to figure this out. Something was very wrong here.

OoOoO

The first thing that Harry noticed when he entered the Great Hall was that the Slytherin table was almost half it's previous size. And even then, the table was almost empty, with only twenty students sitting there.

Harry glanced up at the staff table, and noticed that Snape and Trelawney were both missing. In their seats sat two people he had never seen before.

_What the hell is going on? _Harry thought again, trying to catch the Headmaster's eye and not succeeding.

He took a seat at the Gryffindor table warily, taking a goblet of pumpkin juice to keep his hands busy. Neville sat across from him, and he was showing the boy to his left something excitedly. He then turned to Harry and said;

"hey, check out what my mom got me!" Harry had no idea what the object was, but that wasn't the reason his eyebrows had disappeared into his hairline.

"Your mom?" He asked, wondering if he'd misheard. Neville's mother was supposed to be in saint Mungos, totally incapacitated. How could she have possibly sent her son something?

"Yeah, it's a sneakoscope. Pretty cool, right?"

Harry nodded, his face blank.

He looked around the table for Ginny, hoping that she could explain this madness to him, only to find that she wasn't there. He scanned the room, and his jaw dropped when he looked over at the Ravenclaw table.

Because sitting there, with a blue tie and the Ravenclaw house symbol on his cloak, was Draco Malfoy.

Harry pinched his leg, as he had earlier with his arm, because he simply couldn't be awake right now. No one woke up one morning to find that they had been transported to another universe.

Did they?

He once again tried to catch Dumbledore's eye, but he was still engaged in an animated conversation with professor McGonagall.

"Something really weird is going on," Harry muttered.

OoOoO

Harry checked his timetable, making sure that that hadn't miraculously changed as well. It hadn't. he still had potions with the Ravenclaw's first thing.

He was oddly nervous about seeing Malfoy. Though he knew that this had to be dream. A vivid, insanely weird, dream.

He took a seat towards the back of the class, and waited for the blonde to enter. Surely he had seen wrong? There wasn't a way to suddenly change houses, was there? Surely not. When Malfoy walked in, he spotted Harry and started to walk directly towards him. The Boy Who Lived stiffened, preparing for conflict. He noted that the other boys tie was still blue and silver.

"Hey, Harry. I was thinking that we should postpone the study session next week, so we can train for the quiddich match."

Harry blinked rapidly, staring at the ex Slytherin in shock.

"What?" He asked dumbly.

"The quiddich match? Gryffindor verses Ravenclaw? I hope you didn't forget. Because we're going to kick your arse." Malfoy smiled warmly, and Harry was completely bewildered.

"Oh, yeah, that." He decided to go with it, because he was just dreaming, right?

"Are you okay? You seem really freaked out."

"Err, yeah I'm fine. I just didn't get much sleep."

Malfoy grinned and patted him on the shoulder.

"Well make sure you get some sleep sometime between now and next week and we'll be all good." He turned and spotted Hermione and Ron entering, holding hands and giggling, and he gave Harry a final wave and took a seat not far from the front.

By this point, Harry had given up being shocked. Ron took the seat on his left, and Hermione sat down next to him, their hands never came apart.

"What did Draco say?" The ginger asked as he sat down. The blonde's first name sounded really strange coming out of Ron's mouth.

"Oh. Just the quiddich match next week. He was telling me that we should postpone the study group." _Whatever that is, _he added mentally.

"Oh, damn. I was looking forward to that. He's damn good at ancient runes." This time, he couldn't help but be shocked by his best mates words.

"You take runes?" Harry asked. Ron looked at him like he had grown another head.

"Of course I do. I have since third year. What has gotten into you today, Harry? It's like you've forgotten everything." Hermione looked over at Harry then, looking curious.

"What's Harry forgotten?" she asked Ron.

"Everything, apparently." The red head sighed, and then faced the front as the Professor entered.

"Good morning, class. Today we will be covering the draught of living death." This was were Harry zoned out completely. He wasn't going to bother with potions if he was asleep.

OoOoO

After an insanely boring Herbology lesson with the Hufflepuff's, Harry, Hermione and Ron made their way to the castle for lunch.

"You seem really confused, Harry. Are you sure you're okay?" Hermione asked again. She had asked him a fair few times, and each time, Harry had claimed tiredness. He still had no idea what was going on, but he didn't want them all to think he was crazy. If this wasn't a dream, he didn't want to end up with the other crazies at saint mungos.

"Yes, Hermione. For the hundredth time. I just had hardly any sleep. And I had the strangest dream. It's really bugging me." Hopefully that would get her off his back.

"Okay Harry. But if you start feeling light headed or anything, you have to let us know, okay?" She said it as if she were speaking to a child, and Harry resented it.

"Yes, okay. I'll be fine, I swear." Though Harry wasn't so sure he was speaking the truth.

Maybe he was going crazy.

Maybe his world had always been this way. And he had just made the rest up.

OoOoO

Harry was once again sitting in the great hall, and once again, he couldn't seem to catch the headmasters eye. The tables were fuller than they had been that morning, but Harry still hadn't spotted Ginny.

"Hey, Ron, where's Ginny?" The red head blinked at him for a few seconds.

"You mean my little sister?"

"Yeah, I haven't seen her all day." Ron and Hermione shared a concerned look, and Harry knew he had said something wrong.

"She's at home Harry. Where she should be. Why would she be here?"

"Oh, right. Yeah. Just out of curiosity though, why wouldn't she be here?" He asked, and his best mates eyebrows rose.

"She's two years old, Harry." Ron spoke slowly with a concerned expression, as if he were worried that Harry was suddenly going to strip naked and roll about on the table.

"Oh, yeah I knew that." On the inside, Harry was absolutely losing his mind. What was going on? What else had changed? And why hadn't he woken up?

"So," Hermione said, interrupting Harry's near mental break down.

"Have you spoken to your parents about coming to the quiddich match? You said you were going to invite them?" She asked in a wary tone, watching him carefully.

_My parents? _Harry thought, shocked. _Their alive? _He blinked rapidly at the busy haired girl across from him, not knowing exactly what to say.

"Hermione, does the name Voldemort mean anything to you?" She shook her head.

"No, who's that?"

Harry felt as though he was going to hyperventilate.

"You don't know," He whispered, more to himself.

"Know what, Harry? You really don't look so good. Maybe we should get you to the hospital wing."

Harry had barely heard her. He was still stuck on the fact that there was no Dark Lord and his parents were apparently alive.

He glanced over at the Slytherin table, feeling as though he had too. And sitting there, smirking at him, was Tom Riddle.

He raised his glass to the bewildered Gryffindor, in a mock cheers. He then winked and took a sip of his drink.

Harry fainted.


	2. Thank you, insanity

(_A/N Hi there :D just thought I would let you all know that this fic will be updated sporadically, until I finish Liquida Tenebris. Also, just another reminder, this story is slash. Guy on guy. Just so you know. It will be slow coming though. *shrugs* that's just how I roll.)_

_**thank you, insanity.**_

Harry awoke to the sound of frantic voices. He couldn't see who was talking, because there were white curtains encircling his bed.

He was in the Hospital Wing.

_What happened?_

Best he could figure, he had gotten injured in the quiddich match that was scheduled for that day, but he couldn't remember it.

All he could remember was having the strangest dream.

"I think it would be best if he stayed at the school, Mr. Potter." This was Professor Dumbledore speaking.

_Mr. Potter? _Harry was certain that he had heard wrong.

"Are you sure? If what Hermione and Ron were saying is true, he had a total memory lapse. He even fainted at the sight of another student. Maybe it would be best if we took him to saint Mungos." A voice that Harry didn't recognize said this.

The Boy Who Lived assumed that they were talking about another student. Though, it was very similar to his dream. Strangely so. And who would Hermione and Ron have seen fainting? Wouldn't he have seen it too?

"But dad, I want him to stay here, with me!" A little girls voice chimed in, and he was sure that they weren't talking about him now. He didn't know anyone that sounded like that.

"Hush, Emma. We'll see what happens when he wakes up." The same man that had spoken earlier said.

"I still think it would be best that he stays here, he seemed to remember most people. If he's here, his memory might come back to him." Dumbledore said, and Harry could practically see the twinkle in his eye.

"You have a point, Mr. Dumbledore. But I am worried."

"You can call me Albus, Mr. Potter. And I'm sure it was just a temporary lapse in memory. Possibly stress from the upcoming quiddich match? Either way, I think he'll be fine."

"Well, call me James then. I really hope you're right," Harry stood abruptly then, because it couldn't have possibly been a coincidence that this man was called James Potter.

"Shh, I think he's awake," The little girl said, just as Harry threw the curtain back.

Three people stood before him. Albus Dumbledore, a small girl who looked to be in first year, wearing a gold and red tie, with hair to match it. And holding her hand, smiling tentatively at him, was his father.

Harry James Potter fainted for the second time in twenty four hours.

OoOoO

When Harry awoke, it was dark and silent in the Hospital Wing.

The Boy Who Lived was still incredibly confused. Was he dreaming, or not? At this point it was getting harder and harder to convince himself that he was asleep.

He sat up in his bed, and noticed that the curtains no longer hid him from the room.

"Hello?" He couldn't see anyone else in the room, not even in the other beds. But he needed to figure out what was going on. He had seen his father. And someone who seemed to think she was his sister.

He heard movement in the office, and a man who looked to be in his late fifties came out of the door.

"Who are you? Where's Madam Pomfrey?"

"I'm not sure who that is, Harry, but my name is Healer Fray. You know that," The man replied in a kind but wary tone.

"I don't know you," Harry replied.

"And I have no idea what's going on," He added.

"That's okay, we'll get you fixed up. I have Professor Coral brewing a memory repair potion for you. It should be done by morning, with any luck."

Harry remembered the name, from the earlier in the day. She was the potions professor.

"Who was that earlier, that little girl with- with my f-father?" Harry's mouth stumbled over the word, it was so unused on his tongue. He was so used to using the term in past tense.

"Emma? Harry, that's your sister."

The Boy Who Lived swallowed thickly. His sister.

"I didn't know that," His voice was barely above a whisper. He was so lost. He didn't know most of these people, and the people he did know were completely different.

"It's okay," The doctor repeated, and he crossed the room to a cabinet on the far wall. He took a small vial from it, and came back to Harry.

"Drink this, it will help you get back to sleep."

The Boy Who Lived tipped the contents down his throat, and laid back on his pillows.

"Get some rest," Doctor Fray smiled kindly, and left the teen on his own.

OoOoO

When Harry opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was Hermione's concerned face.

"Harry! You're awake!"

_No, _the teen thought to himself, _I've got to be still asleep. _

"Yeah," He said instead.

Surrounding Hermione were six other people. One of them was a teenage boy, his age, that he did not recognize. The others were his parents, his sister, Ron and Malfoy.

His mother came towards him then, and he could do nothing but stare with wide eyes.

"Harry, I was so worried about you. I'm sorry I couldn't come yesterday, I was tied up at the ministry. Nothing I did would convince them to let me leave. But James said that he would come here and be with you. I hope you're not mad," Lily's words came in a rush, and the whole time, her hand had never left his hair, and she was running her hand through it frantically, as if it would convince him not to get angry.

"It's okay." The teen said finally, and his mother's face lit with relief. She turned to his father then, and had a look on her face that seemed to say 'I told you so,' though Harry wasn't sure why.

"Do you know who everyone here is, Harry?" Ron asked. Harry looked at the teenage boy again, trying to figure out whether or not he knew him. He had black shoulder length hair, and looked to be a foot taller than Harry. His eyes looked green, but he wasn't sure.

"I'm sorry, I don't know who you are," He said to the boy, and a deeply hurt look flashed across his face for a second before he covered it. Hermione also looked rather shocked, but she hid it quickly.

"I'm Tony. We're dorm mates." Tony seemed angry, and Harry flinched. What was he so angry about, if they were just dorm mates?

Harry wasn't about to tell them that he didn't recognize his own sister.

For the second time, he wondered if this was his real life, and the other one was just one that he made up.

"I'm sorry, everything is all mixed up," Harry told his offended room mate.

"Yeah," Was all Tony said, his voice bitter.

"It's okay, the potions professor will be here soon, and we'll get this whole mess worked out." James said, smiling. Everyone in the room seemed tense, and Harry didn't know why. Sure, all his memories were different, but that didn't seem like the reason they all looked on edge.

"What? What's wrong?" He asked the room at large.

"Nothing," His mother replied, while Malfoy said;

"they aren't sure if the memory potion will work," All the others glared at him, except Tony who was still giving Harry filthy looks.

"What do you mean?" The confused brunette asked.

"Well, they just don't know. There's no way to tell. It depends on why you lost your memory," Hermione was the one to answer him.

He wasn't sure if he should tell them all that his memories weren't missing, they were just vastly different.

Professor Dumbledore and the potions master chose that moment to enter.

"Ah, here we are," James said, rubbing his hands together anxiously.

Professor Coral made her way towards Harry, holding a rather large container in her hands. Dumbledore came to stand besides his parents.

"This potion needs to be taken in doses. Taking it all at once can be devastating to the mind. But we should know if its going to help you or not after the first dose." The professor said, not bothering with pleasantries.

"I'll just go and get Healer Fray, shall I?" The Headmaster proclaimed, his eyes twinkling.

Harry couldn't help but wonder if Dumbledore knew something about this that nobody else did.

A few moments later, the Headmaster and Healer came out of the office.

"Alright, lets get started, shall we?" Dumbledore said, sounding excited.

The Healer presented a glass that Harry hadn't noticed earlier, and passed it to the potions professor. She poured him a large portion of the liquid, and passed it over to him. Harry took it nervously, half hoping that it would work, and half hoping that it didn't. What if this world was the wrong one, made to trick him into complacency? What if this world was the right one, and he was being paranoid for no reason?

He sat up and brought the glass to his mouth tipping it backwards, swallowing the liquid before he got a chance to taste it.

"How long will it take to work?" Harry asked, and everyone suddenly looked disappointed.

"It is supposed to take effect immediately." The potions master said, looking slightly sad.

"Not to worry," Dumbledore clapped his hands together.

"There are plenty more ways that people can regain lost memories. We wont lose hope yet. But in the meantime, I suggest you just carry on with life as usual. Who knows, maybe your memories will come back to you on their own." The headmaster was grinning, and Harry thought that was a little bit inappropriate.

Lily looked like she wanted to say something, but James put his hand on her arm and whispered something to her.

"Aww, I thought that it would work and you would be okay," Emma said, and Harry looked at her for the second time that morning. If he were honest, he had almost forgotten that she was even there.

"Er, yeah. It's okay, though. It'll be fine though, don't worry Emma."

The little girl's eyes widened when he said her name, and Harry wondered what he had done wrong this time.

"What?" He asked, worried.

"You never call her that," Lily said, frowning.

"Oh, uh, sorry. What do I call you?" The teen tried his best to make his voice comforting, but the little girl started to cry, regardless.

He looked to his mother, feeling helpless.

"You call her Mylillo." She said, looking sad.

"Mylillo? What does that mean?" Harry wondered allowed, and the little girl started crying harder.

"I don't know, you never told us, she wont tell us either," James was the one to answer this question. Everyone else in the room looked incredibly uncomfortable, and he noticed that Tony was gone.

"Emma," He said quietly, and the girl let out full blown wails at that point.

"My- Mylillo," He decided to try a different tactic.

She snuffled and looked at him, tears shining on her face.

"I'm sorry, there are lots of things that I don't remember. Could, could you tell me what Mylillo means?"

She let out another small sob, and wiped her hand across her face.

"There- there are, p-people listening," At that moment, the infirmary doors swung open, and Tom Riddle stepped into the room.

Harry's eye's widened, and he instinctively reached for his wand, only to find it missing.

"Oh, sorry. I'll come back later." Riddle said from the doorway, his eyes never leaving Harry.

The teen couldn't decide if he should just tackle the future Dark Lord to the ground, or keep his tongue. He didn't need another reason for everyone to think he was crazy.

After a few tense seconds, Riddle smirked and turned to leave. No one else had seen the smirk, they were to busy wondering why on earth Harry was glaring death at their surprise visitor.

No one asked, and soon enough, Harry's parents took their leave. Everyone else stayed to wait with Harry, and he had been allowed to leave the Hospital Wing, on the condition that he had someone with him at all times.

Harry hadn't been paying much attention to the goings on around him. He was to busy wondering why Riddle kept grinning at him like that.

_He knows something. _He decided. _He did this, I know it._


	3. Thank you, suspicion

_(A/N wow, you guys. 57 reviews for the first two chapters? That's crazy. LT got 9 for the first two. You guys are awesome.)_

"Hermione, could you, um. Could you tell me about, like, everyone?" Harry and Hermione were the only two people in the common room, and the raven haired teen thought it would be a good a time as any to try and figure out what else had changed.

"Well, I'm not really sure what you don't know. And you seem to have different memories. Like, you know me and Ron, but not Tony. So how about you tell me what you remember. Start with me first, what do you know about me? Just the basics." The bushy haired girl leaned forward in her seat, looking excited.

"Um, well. You're a muggleborn, your parents are dentists. You love reading, you always have a book in front of you." Harry tried to say it as kindly as he could, hoping that she wouldn't take offence. Hermione nodded slowly, with a small frown on her face.

"Okay. You're right about the muggleborn thing. But my parents died, not long after I was born. They were never dentists, either. And I'm not much of a book worm."

Harry's eyes widened, and his mouth opened and closed helplessly for a few seconds.

"How, how did they die?" He asked finally.

"It's okay, Harry, you can ask me about it. I don't remember them. I mean, I'm sad about it, and all. But I never really knew them." She smiled sadly.

"They died in a car accident, actually. They were bringing me home from the hospital. My grandma told me that they had no idea how I came out of it unscathed. But I think it was my first bout of accidental magic."

They sat in silence for a few moments, before Hermione cleared her throat and sat up slightly.

"So what about Ron? You obviously remember him, what do you know about him?" She asked, and Harry was glad for the change of subject.

"Well, he comes from a big family. He has six siblings. Five brothers and one sister. Um, he's not that bright, but he's really loyal. And stubborn. His family aren't, well they weren't, very well off. Money wise, I mean. I don't know about that any more." Harry thought back to the robes that he had seen Ron wearing, and the way he walked. Like a pureblood. A real pureblood, not a blood traitor.

"Ron only has two siblings." Hermione began.

"His older brother George works at the ministry. And his little sister Ginny. The Weasley's are really rather, um, how would you say it, Stinking rich? Ron is also one of the smartest guys I know." She looked like she wanted to say more, but stopped herself.

"Hermione, tell me about me. What am I like? I mean, everything else has changed."

The bushy haired girl shifted uncomfortably in her seat, and Harry wondered what exactly had made her act that way. What was it about him that made her nervous?

"Please, whatever you say, I can take it." The raven haired teen pressed, and she stared him in the eyes for a few seconds before nodding.

"Well, I don't really know what you know about yourself, and what's different. But I can tell you what I've always known."

Harry nodded and leaned forward.

"You have a temper," She began, watching him carefully.

"Like, a really bad one. I'm not sure if it's still there, because if the old you had lost all his memories, you would currently be scaring the shit out of all of us." She paused to let Harry take it in.

"Exactly how bad is my temper, Hermione?"

"Well, one time you threw Ron from his broom because he got in the way of the snitch. He was lucky that Professor Dumbledore was there to save him. He would have been in bad shape, other wise."

Harry sucked in a breath.

"I would never do that," He whispered, more to himself.

"What else," Harry pressed, his voice louder.

"Well, you and your mother don't get along. One time she seemed to think that you were dabbling in dark magic, and she got a whole heap of people involved, trying to figure out what you were up too. You haven't really spoken to her since. Unless you're yelling at her." Hermione looked wary, and she kept crossing and uncrossing her legs.

"Was I?" Harry asked.

"Pardon?"

"Was I performing dark magic?" The dark haired boy didn't look up from his hands as he asked this.

"There was this one time, I, well, I followed you after potions. You went into an abandoned class room. I watched you through the key hole, and you, erm. Lets just say that yes. You did perform some dark magic."

Harry continued to stare at his hands, once again wondering how the hell this had all happened. There was no way that he would ever cast a dark spell. Not to save his life.

"What about the wards. On the school. They detect most forms of dark spells, don't they?" He looked up at Hermione, who looked confused.

"I don't know, Harry. I've never heard of any wards like that. You should probably ask Ron."

Harry started laughing. Because that statement, more than any other that he had heard so far, was hilarious.

"What?" Hermione looked affronted.

"It's just that, before, well in my memories, anyway, you would be the one to ask."

Hermione uncrossed and crossed her legs again, frowning.

"What do you remember, Harry? What happened in your head that hasn't happened here?"

"So much. I don't even know where to begin, because everythings changed. I'm willing to bet that I don't even know the half of it." Harry sighed and rubbed his face.

"Well, tell me something. What's the biggest thing." She was pushing, and Harry couldn't help but resent it. What if he didn't want to talk about it? What if he just wanted to get lost in this world, and never think about anything else, ever again?

"My parents, I suppose." he said anyway, because he had never been very good at keeping things from Hermione. Even though now, he didn't really know if he knew her at all.

"What about them, Harry?"

"They were dead, Before. They died when I was one. They were killed by a really dark wizard." Harry said it in a very blank tone. As if he were talking about the weather.

"Are you serious? So you never knew them? Harry that's awful! And you didn't know about Emma?" Hermione looked completely shocked.

"No, no I didn't. But I'll work it out. Because even though I'm confused, this life is a far sight better than the one I remember. Hey, Hermione? What can you tell me about Tom Riddle?"

The teenage girl's eyes glazed over and she appeared to be looking through Harry.

"Isn't he stunning, Harry? I mean, he doesn't talk to anyone much, I know cause I've tried. But he's really smart and really good looking and his voice is like, like, like warm chocolate on your ears."

Harry's eyes widened.

"What?" Was all he could say to that.

"What do you mean, what?" Hermione asked, looking at him.

"It's just, don't you find him to be, I dunno, evil?"

Her eyes lit up angrily, and she stood up faster than Harry thought possible.

"You're just jealous of his perfection." She snapped, and she stomped out of the common room without another word.

"What the hell?" Harry asked the empty room, frowning.

_I really need to find out what he's up to. _Harry thought. _Because there's no way that he doesn't have anything to do with this. _

* * *

><p>It was a Saturday, and Harry sat at the Gryffindor table, his eyes glued to Tom Riddle.<p>

Riddle hadn't acknowledged his obvious staring, but Harry preferred it that way. Said raven haired teenager was waiting for the future Dark Lord to get up and leave the hall. Because he was going to follow him.

He was going to confront him.

Harry nearly whooped with joy when Riddle stood and left the hall, entirely alone.

_Perfect, _Harry thought to himself.

He waited for a few seconds before standing, excusing himself from the table. Hermione looked wary, and a little angry.

She had obviously seen Riddle leave the hall, and was putting two and two together. He ignored it though, hoping that she wouldn't follow him.

When he exited the hall, he saw Riddle's back retreat around a corner, and Harry decided that he would follow him until he reached a place with no portraits. He knew that the paintings reported to Dumbledore, and he didn't need anyone to see this confrontation. He didn't need anyone else thinking he was crazy.

He was going to keep the whole prophecy thing secret. At least until he figured out what the hell was going on.

If anyone found out about it, they would think he had a hero complex as well.

Which he kind of did, but still.

No one needed to know about it.

He had followed the future Dark Lord into the dungeons, and Harry assumed that Riddle was headed to the Slytherin dorms.

He turned another corner, and when Harry followed, he was rather shocked to find that he was gone.

He took a tentative step forward, suddenly feeling that this was a trap. In his eagerness, he had hardly bothered to conceal the fact that he was following Riddle. He likely knew that Harry was following him.

But he still needed to confront him. He knew something. Why else would he be here? Riddle was the one true anomaly here. Everyone else, though changed, were still likely. They were as they would have been, if the Dark Lord had never existed.

But why would Tom Riddle have been born in another time?

Harry took another step forward, and drew his wand as he did so. He listened carefully for any movement, and upon hearing nothing, moved forward another step. There were two doors in this corridor, and there was one just a few feet away from him. The other was at the other end of the hall.

Harry assumed that Riddle had to be behind the door closest to him. There wouldn't have been enough time to get into the other door, even if he had of started running.

He closed the gap between him and the door, and he raised his wand so that it would be face level with Riddle, if this was an ambush.

Harry brought his hand out to turn the handle, and just as he touched it, the door swung open and he was yanked inside, before he could even think of a spell to blast the bastard of his feet.

"Why are you following me?" Harry had been thrown to the ground, and he had hit his head on the stone floor. The first thing that went through his mind at hearing the future Dark Lord's voice, was that Hermione was right. His voice was like chocolate.

Then he realized what he had just thought, and shook his head fiercely.

He stood as fast as was humanly possible with what he thought was a concussion, and turned to face the man that he hated with all of his being.

"I know who you are. I know what you're doing." Harry pointed his wand at the Slytherin, who just smirked in response.

"Do you now? Hmm." Riddle didn't draw his wand.

"Yes, and I know you have something to do with this." Harry's wand arm faltered slightly when Riddle just stared at him.

He was smirking, and he had his arms crossed.

"I'm pretty sure you've lost your mind. Which is a shame, truly."

Harry's eyebrows rose at this statement.

"What do you mean?" Harry's wand arm had fallen to his side, completely forgotten.

"Since you had to ask me that, you obviously don't know. Therefore, I'm hardly about to tell you." Riddle smirked again, wider this time.

"And what if I do know?" The raven haired teen was trying to bluff. He truly had no idea what the other teen was talking about. But maybe, he could fake it.

Riddle raised his eyebrow, then he waved a finger in front of Harry, as if he were a child that had done something wrong.

"Nice try. But I have this ability that lets me know when people are lying. You don't remember anything."

"What the hell am I supposed to be remembering!" Harry blurted. Anything that involved him and Tom Riddle, never ended well.

"Maybe you'll figure it out. Maybe not. Either way, I wont be the one to tell you. At this point, I think it's best that you've forgotten. I'll see you around, Potter."

The future Dark Lord was out the door before Harry could say anything, not that he had anything to say. He was to busy being completely stumped.

What was it that had happened?

Did he know something about Riddle? Something that no one else knew, besides his true identity? Maybe that was what the Slytherin was talking about, and he didn't know that Harry still knew.

Or maybe it was something different. Something worse.


	4. Thank you, sister

(_A/N So, Hi. Erm. My internet got disconnected and I'm not sure when this will reach you because my service provider is a big dickhead and cant seem to tell the difference between paying a bill and not paying a bill which I have paid the bill I mean for heavens sake. *__**takes huge breath***__ I love you like a nerd loves world of warcraft, and neither of my stories are abandoned.) _

Harry was getting dressed for another day, one which he was sure was to be filled with more weirdness, when a glint of gold caught his eye.

On his dresser sat a great fat pendent on a chain, with a serpentine S on the face. It was gold, and looked rather heavy. Harry approached it cautiously, and noticed on closer inspection that the necklace sat on a piece of parchment.

The teen reached for the note, gripping it with his thumb and forefinger, careful not to touch the decidedly suspicious locket. He scanned the note for a signature first, and was annoyed to find that there wasn't one. Why was someone giving him gaudy jewelery?

_Since you've obviously lost your mind, I suppose this is no longer_

_mine to care for. _

Harry scanned the note three times before looking back at the locket. He then looked back at the parchment.

He realized with a start that he recognized the writing. It was Tom Riddle's. He remembered it from his second year. Or, the second year he remembered anyway.

So what was he doing giving him a necklace? An ugly one at that.

Harry decided straight away that the locket was not to be touched. It was likely cursed. He highly doubted that the future Dark Lord didn't have some sort of ulterior motive.

He took out his wand and opened the top drawer of his dresser, and with one swift movement flicked the necklace into the waiting drawer.

If he were honest, he half expected it to explode. It just sat there, looking suspicious.

He had the feeling this was a dark object, an object that he should not have. With that thought in mind, he gingerly picked up a sock and threw it over the locket, holding his breath and still waiting for some sort of reaction.

Again, nothing happened.

He thought back to the note, and wondered why Tom had made it seem like the locket belonged to Harry.

He didn't remember it, but then again, this was nothing new.

Then the next question was, why was Tom Riddle looking after something that was supposedly his? It had to be some sort of trick.

He needed to figure out what the necklace was, and why Tom had it, and why he gave it back, without alerting anyone of it's existence. Because it was highly likely that someone might find it suspicious that he would have such an obviously dark object.

And if he did blame it on Tom, it was pretty likely that people wold take the future Dark Lord's side. If Tom Riddle was anything, he was charismatic.

Harry sighed and resisted the urge to remove the sock and get a better look at the locket. Instead, he shoved the drawer closed with more force than necessary, and threw his robe on.

He almost wished for his old life back. Though it was awful, it was normal. At least to him.

He had his parents back, everyone who had died was now magically returned to him. But it was confusing. No one was the same.

Not only that, he was not the same. People seemed to be walking on eggshells around him, and flinching when he spoke to loudly in the great hall.

With good reason, as far as Harry could tell.

He rubbed his hands over his face vigorously, while thinking, _dark magic? Me? Doing dark magic? No way. _

A little voice in his head, not unlike his conscience, whispered; _Yes way. _

This got Harry wondering about what kind of world he had to be raised in for him to turn to the dark arts. He felt sick and worried all at once.

_There must be be something wrong with this place. Why else would Other Me think its a good idea to run about casting dark spells?_

With this rather heavy and day destroying thought in mind, he descended the stairs, hoping to see a friendly face on the other side.

He had been avoiding Hermione like the plague since her outburst, and it seemed she was avoiding him as well.

Which was totally fine with Harry.

In the past, when Harry had attempted to avoid the bushy haired girl, she simply didn't allow it. She seldom, if ever, avoided the Boy Who Lived.

It was then that Harry realized he was no longer the Boy Who Lived. Or the Chosen One, or any other type of Boy Who Anything.

Or maybe he was.

And this was a magically induced dream to make him think that none of the awful things that had happened had ever come to pass.

But what if they really didn't? What if he was really just a borderline psycho and made it all up in his head, and none of his other life ever happened, and he had really been living here and mixing people up and making villains where there were none? What if Tom Riddle was just another teenager, destined for no more than teaching defense or catching dragons? What if Voldemort was just something he imagined?

Now that he really thought about it, it seemed so unreal. That he would be the sole person on the planet that would be capable of defeating the darkest wizard in existence, when he was barely capable of transfiguring a mouse into a matchbox.

But, what if, what if.

What if he was crazy? What if this was real? What is this wasn't real, what if he wasn't crazy?

Harry felt pretty close to banging his head on the closest stone wall, when someone tapped him on the shoulder.

He spun quickly, almost drawing his wand in the process, than thinking better of it. Why would Tom Riddle be in his common room? What if Tom Riddle was totally normal and Harry was the future Dark Lord?

That was a thought that made all the color drain form his cheeks.

"Harry? Are you okay? You're breathing really fast." The pale and apparently hyperventilating teen looked down, and instantly recognized his younger sister. Whose name had completely slipped his mind. Along with the complicated nickname that he apparently called her.

"fine, fine, just fine." He said quickly, hoping to end the conversation before she realized he had forgotten her name.

"So, lovely day, isn't it, Harry?" She asked, rocking on her feet innocently.

"Yeah, I guess."

"Do you want to go down to the green house for that thing, or are you still missing a piece?"

"A piece of what?" He asked, momentarily blindsided by her strange question.

She tapped her temple and grinned a grin that Harry thought was a nasty one, but surely not. She seemed so sweet in the hospital wing, the smile looked out of place on her mouth.

This was when Harry noticed that she was holding herself differently, speaking differently. Even her expressions were changed, as if she were far older than she truly let on.

"A piece of your mind," She clarified.

"Harry," She continued, the nasty smile that Harry now realized was a smirk still in place,

"What's my name?"

Harry stared at her for a long moment, hoping she would just forget about it. She didn't. The small red headed girl merely tapped her foot in impatience.

"nrghgh," Harry wobbled on his feet, looking for all the world like a petulant child who was on the verge of a tantrum.

The small red headed girl simply raised an eyebrow, and Harry was torn between walking away and literally throwing himself to the floor and beating his fists.

"I'm having a tough day," He said instead, and her eyebrow rose further.

"Are you really?" There was a bite to her words, a sort of challenge, an unspoken; _you think your life is bad? Try mine._

"Could you just tell me and put me out of my misery? You're putting way to much pressure on. I'm never gonna remember with you standing there tapping your foot like a grumpy teacher, am I?" The older teen was trying to lighten the mood, but all he got for his efforts was a small frown and unreadable eyes.

It was his turn to frown. It was obvious she wasn't quite as upset about her brother's memory loss than she originally let on. And Harry was starting to get the shits with her obvious disinterest.

"Emma, Harry. It's a pretty simple name, don't you think? Not really hard to remember."

He crossed his arms, mirroring her position.

"What about the nickname?" He practically spat. He was trying to be civil. Trying to make this work. And he was so sick of everyone being so different, of everyone being so hard to read.

This little girl, his sister, apparently, was different again. As if it wasn't hard the first time to read her.

"What nickname?" She smirked again, and Harry had to resist the urge to strike her.

_Calm down. She's just a snotty little brat. _He thought to himself.

"The nickname that I call you," He pressed, talking slower than necessary.

"Oh, that nickname!" She clicked her fingers as if just remembering.

"Yeah, that nickname." He said, exasperated.

"I'm not telling." She grinned like a Cheshire cat and turned on her heel, walking away from him almost to quickly for him to process what she had just said.

"Why not?" He called after her, just as she reached the portrait hole.

"Because that's the name my brother calls me." She watched the dark haired teen for a second, as if waiting for her words to sink in.

"I am your brother," He said finally, more hurt in his words than he had expected.

"No, no you aren't. You're nothing like him. He was Great. More than Great. He was powerful, and no one, no one ever pulled one over on him. Especially not me. But here I am. Dangling you about like a puppet on a string, and all you've done about it is stand there and look hurt. You are not him. Not in the slightest. I have no idea who you are, truly. But I'm going to find out, and I'm going to get my brother back." She climbed through the portrait hole, not waiting for an answer.

Harry stood, dumbfounded, in the same position for what felt like hours.

"Fine," He said to no one.

"Get your brother back. I hate this place."

OoOoO

When Harry slept that night, he dreamed of Hermione and Ron. Not the weird and unpredictable ones. His Hermione and Ron.

Hermione was worried.

Everything she said in the dream was in a worried tone of voice.

"Watch out for that moisturizer, Harry, it's very hot." She warned, and Harry knew that he should stay well away from it. After all, when was Hermione ever wrong?

"Ron," She snapped suddenly, and the red head in question snapped his head up, with a look on his face that said, _what have I done this time? _

"Tell Harry what we were talking about. Hurry, we don't have much time,"

Without any warning, the dream had gone from normal weirdness, to uncharacteristic seriousness. Ron opened his mouth and the words fell out in a rush.

"There's a horcrux Harry, you need to be careful with-"

Harry snapped awake, feeling as if someone had just thrown a bucket of ice water in his face.

There was Ron, with his wand pointed at the raven haired teen, a look of disdain on his face.

"You never used to sleep in this late. You used to be up before the rest of us. Get up, would you, you're going to be late for charms."

"Ron, what's a horcrux?"

The ginger's eyes went comically wide and he looked around the room frantically.

"Are you bloody joking or what? Merlin Harry you bring up stupid things at stupid times."

Harry shrugged, not understanding Ron's panic.

"So what is it?" He pressed, and Ron looked disapproving.

"You've asked me this before, you know."

Harry shrugged from his bed, still feeling as if he had been dunked in the arctic, but curiously not wet at all.

"Tell me again."

The red head shook his hands frantically and made a groaning noise.

"Are you serious? Again? It was bad enough the first time."

"Yes, I'm serious." Harry said, trying to make his voice sound stronger and more menacing. If that was how his Other Self got things done around here, then so be it. He needed to know what a Horcrux was. If it had been mentioned in a dream, then Harry would have thought that it wasn't real, just something that his mind made up, or just something unimportant that he had read about before.

But it wasn't. It was something important, judging by the way Ron was acting. And his Other Self had asked about this. That was well and truly enough for Harry to figure out what it was.

"It's an object, it could be anything, like a shoe or a bottle cap. It holds a piece of a persons soul, making them pretty much immortal."

Harry sucked in a breath. That was it then, what Riddle was planning to do. He was going to make himself immortal. And Harry needed to stop it.

"How are they made?" Harry asked, trying to keep his face placid. He had no idea what kind of relationship his Other Self had with Ron, or what kind of relationship Ron had with Riddle. He didn't need the red head going and telling the evil bastard what Harry had been asking about.

"I'm not sure of the details, but it does involve killing someone." Ron shrugged, and Harry had to keep his mouth from falling open.

Killing someone? Had Riddle already done it? If so, who?

"And how, um, how are they destroyed?"

the red head didn't seem at all worried about Harry asking this question, and simply shrugged.

"Don't know. You never asked me to look up that part."

"Wait, I asked you to look it up? Why?"

Again, the Weasley shrugged.

"Not sure. You had a very, erm, _Don't ask don't tell_ attitude about you. So I didn't ask."

"What book did you use? To find out this stuff?"

"Hmm, I forget the title, but I know what I looks like, I could find it for you?"

Harry nodded and finally got up, satisfied that he was going to get answers.

"We're way late for charms. We might as well got straight to the library and say that we have an assignment or something."

OoOoO

After Ron had talked their way out of trouble three times with charm Harry hadn't thought possible of Ron unless he had seen it with his own eyes, the pair of them entered the restricted section of the library.

"I don't know why you were interested in this the first time, Harry, but I think it would be easy to warrant a guess. But this time, I have no idea." Ron said. It was the first thing he had said to the green eyed teen since they had left their Dorm, and Harry stiffened at the almost question.

"Why was I interested last time?" He asked instead of answering the more dangerous question.

"It's only a guess, but a very educated one. You wanted to help someone make one. That's my first assumption. There are others. But they're less likely."

Harry nodded slowly, though Ron wasn't looking.

"Do you have any idea who I was planning on helping?"

"I'd bet my life it was Tom. That is, if you were planning on helping someone. What happened with you two anyway? You used to be close. I haven't seen you two together for a while."

Harry stayed quiet.

"I was just wondering. You don't have to talk about it." Ron said, taking Harry's silence as offense.

"And you're not, I don't know. Um, disgusted by the idea of someone killing someone else to live forever?"

"Harry, like I said, they were assumptions. I have no idea whether or not you were really planning on doing it, or you were just curious. There's no way to know that unless you just outright told me. As for the question, well, as long as its not me who ends up dead, I don't care what you or anyone else does."

Harry had had a feeling that Ron might have felt this way, but he was still disgusted by it. He didn't let it show though, and continued to follow the red head through the shelves, being consistently warned not to touch anything.

"There isn't much in here about making them, if that's why you're interested. But there's plenty on how to destroy one." Ron said, turning to look at Harry as he did so.

He gave the raven haired teen a calculating look, and Harry was sick to death of these looks. He got them from everyone in this place.

"Okay," Harry replied, feigning disinterest.

"Alright then. Enjoy," Ron said, plonking a rather large book into Harry's arms and retreating.

"You aren't staying?" The green eyed teen called over his shoulder.

"Nope, already read that one."

_Of course you have, _Harry thought to himself.

_Why would I assume any different?_


	5. Thank you, Disappointment

_A/N: Phew. It's been a while. My bad. I would just like to say that this story, in comparison to LT, had gotten double the response in relativity to words. (obviously, LT is longer.) but the amount of reviews per chapter VS. LT is mind blowing. So I thought I'd give you all a new chapter :D as I've said before, no bloody stinking clue where this is going.)_

Harry James Potter was leaning against the wall, facing a tapestry depicting trolls in tutu's, idly wondering if he should lock himself in the Room Of Requirement and just never come out.

For a second, Harry wondered if the room was even still there.

Then he shook himself. Of course it was. It was only the people who had changed. And it all seemed to revolve around Tom Riddle. Hogwarts couldn't possibly be changed. It was around well before either of the Tom's were born.

Even then, he was curious.

He strode three times quickly with his back to the ridiculous tapestry, wanting a place to think.

As he thought, the door materialised out of the wall, and he quickly scanned the hallway before entering. The room contained a single chair and a fireplace, crackling merrily a few feet from the comfortable looking seat.

The book on horcruxes was rather vague. Though it did suggest murder was involved, it divulged nothing else about the making or destroying of them.

He wondered if his Other Self had found anything that he needed to know in them in them.

Harry hoped not.

It was possible that Tom never made one, because of the sheer uselessness of the book.

But Harry was sure that Tom was hardly about to give up on it.

He just found himself fervently hoping that he could stop it before it happened. The book mentioned that a horcrux could be anything, and that was worrying.

Harry would have no idea what he was looking for.

He got to wondering, once again, what exactly was going on.

His mind was running around in circles, and nothing made any sense.

Was this even real life?

It had to be a trick.

Harry sat in front of the fire until it was nothing but lightly glowing embers, still none the wiser as to what the hell was going on.

He stood, sighing and cracking his back.

His lower half was slightly numb from staying seated for so long, and if he had to guess, he'd say dinner was close to over.

Not that he felt anything similar to hungry after the stress he had put himself under.

* * *

><p>Harry lay in his bed, his mind still chasing it's tail.<p>

He was getting no where fast, and there was still a large part of him that just wanted to let it go.

Besides his sisters strange antics, and the fact that Tom Riddle was roaming the halls with no one to keep him in check, life was pretty sweet.

It would be easier to bring down a teenage Dark Lord, after all.

He could do that. No where near as difficult as bringing down an established and powerful Voldemort.

He'd get rid of the bastard, through what ever means necessary, than he could live life, with his family. His real family.

And all of the other people he thought were gone forever.

He felt a small stab of loss at the thought of his real Hermione, Ron and Ginny. But they were still technically the same people, surely. Just Ginny was younger than Harry remembered, and Ron was a little bit of a pompous arse.

He didn't even want to consider Hermione.

He sighed and rolled onto his side, determined to sleep.

He did have Quiddich practice the next morning, after all. He was still torn on how much effort he should put into his studies, and extra curricular activities, but he did love flying.

That hadn't changed.

Before he had any real chance to fall asleep, his bed creaked as if someone had sat on it. Harry rolled over in confusion, wondering who the hell would be sitting on his bed at such a ridiculous hour.

"Mind if a cast a privacy ward?"

Sitting on his bed, frowning, was Harry's dorm mate, who Harry remembered was named Tony.

"Oh, um, sure?" It was more of a question, and Harry was put off by the other teen's slightly angry attitude.

"This is one hell of a way to clear your slate," Tony snapped after the ward was set.

"Pardon?" Harry asked, not really sure what he meant.

"You heard me. I assume this has something to do with the fight you had with your mother last month? The whole Auror thing she pulled? Faking memory loss is a bit extreme, don't you think?"

Harry blinked for a few seconds, not managing much else.

"And there was really no need to 'Forget' me," Tony said before Harry could reply, air quoting with his fingers.

"I'm not faking this," Harry muttered, becoming a little pissed that this guy was assuming that he was just an asshole.

"If you don't want to fuck me in the corridors any more, you could have just said so." Tony snapped, staring Harry right in the eyes.

The brunette teen's mouth felt as if it had fallen right off in shock.

"What?" Harry's voice was a horrified whisper.

"don't play stupid with me, Harry. I'm just about sick of your shit." Tony got up and walked right out of the dorm, leaving Harry open mouthed and dumbstruck.

* * *

><p>Harry got next to no sleep that night, but that didn't really surprise him.<p>

Tony hadn't re-entered the Dorm at all that night, and Harry wondered how exactly he had managed to not get caught. Or get any sleep, for that matter. Not that Harry cared.

He still couldn't believe what Tony had said to him.

Surely he was joking?

There was no way Harry would be fucking anyone in the corridors, lest of all another man.

He wasn't gay.

He always thought that he would end up marrying Ginny, have a gaggle of children, then live happily ever after. That was just the way he pictured it.

He'd never considered anything else.

His Other Self must be insane, he decided as he got up, slightly begrudgingly. He was incredibly tired, but no matter how he tried, he couldn't get any sleep.

It was still rather early, the sun had only just peeked out from the horizon. He still had at least an hour till Quiddich practice, but breakfast would most likely be served.

Skipping dinner the night before had left him hungry.

Upon entering the Great Hall, he instantly decided it was a stupid idea to get up so early. The only Slytherin at the Snakes table was Tom Riddle, and as soon as Harry entered, he got a sarcastic wave partnered with a wolfish grin.

Harry looked away, frowning. He had the strangest urge to fix his hair. The future Dark Lord had a way of making you feel completely inferior.

The raven haired teen took a seat at his table, facing away from the Slytherin side, resisting the urge to turn and look at Riddle.

His table only had a handful of students, including Tony and Emma. Harry was sorely tempted to grab a slice of toast and leave.

Without any prompting of his own, he turned and glanced at the Slytherin table, and Tom was still staring at him, smirking. Harry quickly turned back, and earned himself a rather loud laugh from his so called sister.

"Still confused, are you?" She called, sniggering. She was a fair way down the table, so she had to say this rather loudly.

The entire Gryffindor table, though there were not many of them, turned to look at him. Tony gave him a rather startling glare and Harry turned away quickly.

He decided taking his toast and ditching wasn't such a bad idea, after all.

He grabbed three slices, stood abruptly and almost tripped over himself in his haste to get away.

_Screw them, _he thought bitterly, biting into his toast with more force than necessary as he shoved the entry doors open.

"You're so sexy when you're pissed!" A voice called after him. He knew it was a guy yelling it, and it only served to piss him off further. He didn't bother to look back to see who had said it, but he guessed that it was Tony trying to get back at him.

Or maybe just flirting with him. He had no idea.

On the way back to his Dorm, he almost quite literally bumped into his head of house.

"Oh, Mister Potter! You gave me quite a fright," Professor McGonagall said, her tone chastising.

"Sorry, Professor." Harry mumbled, glaring at his toast his his head down.

"I was looking for you," She continued, and Harry looked up.

"The Headmaster would like to see you after you finish your practice. The password is ton tongue toffee." Her tone was clipped, and it took him a few seconds to figure out why.

It wasn't because he had nearly head butted her chest, it was because she didn't like him. Or at least, she didn't like his Other Self.

"Of course," Harry said, trying to be polite as he could manage, given his sour mood.

Her mouth formed a thin line and she nodded once, continuing down the hall without looking back at him.

This made Harry's mood even worse, and he had a feeling that flying wasn't even going to improve it.

With this depressing thought in mind, he waited for the shifting staircases to realign themselves, so he could collect his broom.

Upon entering his dorm, he found Ron preparing to leave.

"Hello, Harry." Ron greeted.

"Morning," Harry replied, rather despondently.

"Nice day for Quiddich," The red head continued, not noticing Harry's sour tone. At least his lack of empathy hadn't changed.

"Yeah, it's alright." Harry wondered if Ron was on the team. He had always wanted to be, but Harry didn't know how to ask without sounding stupid. As he so often felt.

"Are you coming down?" He asked, trying for a subtle approach.

"Nah, not really my thing, Quiddich, is it? Tell Hermione that I said I'll meet her afterwards, though." Ron said, turning away from Harry and running a comb through his hair.

"Oh, er, sure."

Hermione never really watched Quiddich practice. It was as if Hermione and Ron had swapped personalities. Only not really.

"Thanks. I'll see you later then." Ron descended the stairs without another word.

"Sure," Harry mumbled to his retreating back.

Harry opened the door to his small wardrobe, and pulled out his broom.

He quickly realised that the handle didn't feel the same. It was thicker, and black. The broom bristles were white, and it had Black Ace written in tiny silver cursive near the tip. Harry stared at it incredulously for a moment, before sighing and shrugging.

It was really not that surprising. He wasn't sure why he thought his broom would be the same. Nothing else was.

* * *

><p>Harry arrived early, and as he entered the locker room, he spotted only two other people. No one had even entered the stands to watch yet.<p>

"Hey, Harry, come over here." An older teen with reddish brown hair said. Harry had never met him before, but he assumed that he was the captain, judging by his uniform.

"I wanna see a hell of a lot more effort from you today. This is our last practice before the match with Ravenclaw." He said without preamble.

"We've lost three games solely because of you breaking the rules. I know you can do better, that's why I put you on. But no else seems to think so. Prove them wrong, would you? You're not the only one who copes the blame for your mistakes."

Harry nodded, trying to hide his confusion.

How many rules are there to break as a seeker? All you have to do is the catch the snitch. There really wasn't any wiggle room there.

The captain smiled and shooed him away to get dressed.

Harry wandered through the locker room, trying to inconspicuously find his locker without looking lost. He found it second to last, and opened it to find his uniform.

He lifted his robes over his head, struggling slightly with the many folds of fabric. He had his uniform half on when he heard Hermione's voice, and he quickly yanked it down over his head.

He couldn't hear what the bushy haired girl was saying, but he turned to see her talking to the captain. She then laughed and made her way towards Harry.

Despite himself, he looked around to see if she were heading for someone else. There was no one else near him.

Maybe she was going to apologise for her ridiculous behaviour about Riddle.

To his surprise, she walked right past him, stopped in front of the last locker and tapped her wand on it.

Harry's mouth fell open as he watched her remove a uniform from inside. She turned to look at him pointedly.

"I don't give a crap how gay you are. Turn around while I change." She snapped.

She knew about him and Tony? So he wasn't just messing with Harry? Had his Other Self told her? And possibly more importantly, Hermione was on the Quiddich team?

"You play Quiddich?" He blurted, and she glared at him.

"Yes, Harry, now turn."

Instead of just turning, Harry grabbed his broom and stomped toward the pitch. He was pretty much over people being short with him. It wasn't his fault that he couldn't remember, or that his Other Self was a nasty psycho.

During his 'conversation' with Hermione, what appeared to be the rest of the team had arrived. To Harry's dismay, this included Tony.

Said teen was facing away from Harry and appeared to be pointedly ignoring him.

That was fine with Harry.

Better to be ignored than harassed.

As Harry made his way out onto the pitch, he was called back by the captain.

"Harry, Where's your club?"

Harry paused and turned to face the captain, confused.

"My what?" He asked.

The older teen made a swinging motion with his arm, as if he were hitting a baseball.

"Your club." He repeated.

"Don't tell me you lost it,"

Harry stared for a moment, wondering what he would need a club to catch the snitch, when it hit him.

He wasn't a seeker.

He was a beater.

He got a sinking feeling in his gut. He had always a been a seeker. It was what he was good at, not to mention his favourite position. He had played as a beater once while playing with Ron and his brothers, and had instantly disliked it.

He didn't like the idea of sending dangerous projectiles at peoples faces.

Apparently, his Other Self did.

"Uh, I'll just go get it," He mumbled, heading back towards his locker. He hadn't seen it in there before, but then, he hadn't really been looking for it.

Sure enough, the slightly cavemanish club leaned against the back of his locker, in all it's horrid glory.

He picked up the bulky chunk of wood and resisted the urge the throw it in the captains face and quit.

He scolded himself for the thought. It was hardly the older teens fault he was having a bad week. Nonetheless, he was pissed with this turn of events. He wanted to float lazily in the air, search for the snitch, and forget everything else.

He wasn't even a good beater.

He frowned and made his way out to the field once again, searching for the other beater. After all, he had to know who he was hitting the bludger to.

He spotted a girl, who he thought looked to be a seventh year, clutching a club and talking animatedly to Hermione.

He wondered who the seeker was.

He found himself hoping it wasn't Tony. Though he couldn't figure out why.

The broom he owned was horrid.

The speed was brilliant, but that was the only good thing about it.

It was way to touchy with corners, and Harry ended up doing three sixties when he only wanted to turn slightly to the left.

Because of this, he got hit with the bludger numerous times. He would be covered in painful bruises the next morning, he was sure.

He even dropped his club a few times, much to his embarrassment.

Hermione shouted at him from the goal posts, though he couldn't hear what it was she was yelling. He didn't need to hear the words to know that she was angry though.

It turned out that Hermione was a keeper, and the seeker was the captain. Tony was a chaser, and Harry was hugely glad about that. Though, again, he couldn't fathom why.

After a completely dismal practice, Harry landed awkwardly on the grass and frowned at his useless broom.

"Harry, I'm not gonna lie, that was horrible. Did you forget how to fly or something?" His captain said to him as he passed, not waiting for Harry to reply.

Hermione actually barged her shoulder into him as she passed, and Harry sensed a serious argument coming on.

He was honestly surprised that she was holding such a huge grudge. She knew that he was having serious problems adjusting, and that his memory was all wrong. But she shunned him for one single comment?

Regardless of her easy disregard of him, he wanted to fix things. She was one of the only people he had to talk to here.

She was Hermione.

He couldn't let things fester like this.

"Hermione! Wait up!" He called, ignoring the glares he was receiving from his team mates. She paused for a split second, before she apparently decided against it and kept walking.

Harry made a grumbling noise and started to jog after her, ignoring the aches and pains from the bludgers, with his broom awkwardly against his legs.

"Hermione, wait up!" He called again, but she didn't even pause this time.

When he finally caught up, she turned and huffed, as if she was the one who had been inconvenienced by the whole ordeal.

"I just wanted to apologise," He said, trying to look a little bit sorry, instead of angry.

"Oh? What for?" She asked, crossing her arms.

"For that whole thing about Tom Riddle. I was just confused," He said quickly, trying to keep her attention.

She made a clicking noise with her tongue and looked bored.

"I really am sorry. I didn't mean what I said. I guess I just wanted someone to blame." He pressed, and she frowned at him, as if considering his words.

"Alright, I suppose. You were horrible out there, by the way." She gestured to the pitch, then turned and headed for her locker.

Harry assumed that all was forgiven, though it was a rather strange way to say 'apology accepted.'

he followed her to her locker, facing away as she changed, and stripped his own uniform off. He had always wondered about the lack of changing rooms.

One of his team mates had told him, when he was still the Boy Who Lived, that is was because they just hadn't bothered to change it, even after Women started playing Quiddich.

Before then, it was all men, so they didn't bother with privacy.

Harry would have thought that Dumbledore would have arranged something, but obviously not.

"Ron said he'd meet you afterwards," Harry said over his shoulder.

"Okay. I'll see you later." Hermione said, walking right past Harry, now fully dressed. Harry was still struggling with his robes, trying to get them to sit properly.

* * *

><p>Harry made his way back up to the castle, heading towards the Headmaster's office.<p>

He wondered what the man wanted him for. Most likely something to do with his memory loss. He had conflicted feelings about 'fixing' it. He wanted to stay who he was. And he wanted to stay. And he wanted to leave. And he wanted to curl up in a ball and forget everything he had ever been through. And he wanted to fix everything here, make it perfect for himself. This thought in particular made him feel horribly selfish. If the people he left behind were still there, if they were even real, they would need him.

The people here didn't need him.

He needed them, though.

All of their anger and misunderstanding aside, they were people that he loved. Or at least, he thought he loved them. They weren't the same, but he could get used to that, couldn't he? Surely he could. Again, he felt a stab of shame at his thoughts.

He was being selfish. But he had his parents here. And Sirius.

He stopped in front of the stone gargoyle and told it the password.

He stood on the top step before it rose to high, and waited. Dumbledore told him to enter as he reached the top, and Harry did so, taking the seat across from the Headmaster.

"Good afternoon, Mister Potter." Dumbledore greeted warmly, and Harry smiled in return.

"Good morning,"

Harry was offered a lemon sherbet, and he wondered why the Headmaster always offered them. He shook his head no, smiling slightly.

"I brought you here today, because your parents have made a request." Dumbledore began once they had gotten through the pleasantries.

"Oh?" Harry pressed, wondering what request, exactly, they had made.

"They asked me, with your consent obviously, if you could take a few days off of class to spend with them, at home. Your father is hopeful that it might help your memory return." Dumbledore made a temple with his hands and leaned forward, as if curious about Harry's response.

He only really needed to think about it for a second. Of course he would go home.

Home.

Even thinking the word seemed to make his brain go slightly lopsided and off kilter.

"Yeah, yeah. That's a great idea." Harry beamed.

Though he knew that he would be under some scrutiny from his parents, it would hardly be as bad as Hogwarts. Besides, he needed a break from here.

And if he were to suddenly wake from this insane dream, at least he could feel as if he had spent some more time with them.

Even if they weren't real.


End file.
